Past Tense, Future Perfect
by White Pontiac Heaven
Summary: As the detectives hunt down a rapist in present day new york, our favorite A.D.A.'s come to realize that the past isn't always what it seems to be, and must overcome personal demons before the rapist strikes again. Casey/Elliot, eventually Alex/Casey. Maybe. Rating subject to change.
1. Preface

"Stop acting as if life is a rehearsal. Live this day as if it were your last. The past is over and gone. The future is not guaranteed." –Wayne Dyer.


	2. Comfort

**Side Note;** Well howdy ya'll. :) I come bearing a co-authored fic. JennaLynne is the other writer and this, this will be grand. Or at least we hope it will be. :D Here's how it goes: I write one chapter, JL writes the other, and you'll know by the author's notes who's who. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** We don't own a damn thing. :(

* * *

October, 2007

Lightning strikes with a loud crashing sound, creating a bright flash of white across the grey sky, and the rumble of thunder follows close behind. It tells Casey that the storm is directly above her city. She's made a habit out of Mississippi-counting how many miles away the storm was since last week, when she first got news of it. Today the sounds of the sky are louder than those of the city, louder than she cares for. But it isn't the white lightning that sends a chill straight up her spine; it's the scene her eyes are taking into view.

Holding an umbrella over her, she walks up a paved hill in the middle of Battery Park with clicking heels, and Olivia appears by her side. She knows the detective is talking, but she just can't hear her, not over the thunder. She nods, just to acknowledge her, and stops once they reach crime scene. Everyone is rushing along, doing their jobs at turbo speed due to the heavy rain that has already washed away too much evidence.

The M.E. gets on one knee, hovers of the body, and notes the cause of death. Casey hears something about strangulation, and then sees a camera flash. She walks a little closer to their victim, listening and watching.

"So she was strangled?" Detective Stabler speaks loudly in his rain coat, obviously too manly for an umbrella, or rather too insecure about his masculinity. Casey steps to his left, and holds her umbrella over him. His face acquires a smile as he gently nudges her arm.

"Looks like it." Warner stands her graceful self up to move out of the way for the crime-scene photographer. "I'll know more after the autopsy."

Casey stares at the dead girl on the ground. She's set atop autumn's leaves, leaning just a little to the side. Her attire is odd. She wears a black and white dress shredded at the ends, flats, and her make-up seems to be in spirit of the Halloween season. Her long blonde hair is almost the color of snow, save for the vividly colored tips being washed away. The temporary color makes a slight stream of oranges, reds, and blacks; there's no telling what else the downpour has washed away.

She doesn't know what to do think of the girl, or why she feels the need to overlook the crime scene at all.

"Who is she?" She asks Elliot, who's still by her side. He's always there when she needs him, even if she doesn't know it yet.

"No I.D. on the kid," He says coolly. Who knew too many years on this job would make a raped, murdered adolescent an ordinary sight. Of course it got to him, the cases always do, but at work he's collected, and sometimes that scares him.

Kid. She's just a kid. Casey decides she can't be any older than sixteen, maybe seventeen with good genes. She sighs, "Better start askin' around."

A loud crack of lightning startles the pair, and the young A.D.A. gives Elliot's hand a squeeze before heading back to her car. Her gut is telling her something, and she'll be damned if she doesn't figure out what it is.

* * *

A photo of the nameless victim is slapped on a clear board, a magnet holding it in place. The Special Victims squad room moves at its usual speed, save for a group of detective who've pushed beyond the line of overtime. Not sure if they have a serial rapist on their hands, or merely a situation that got out of hand, Detective Stabler recites the facts.

"Warner believes the vic is somewhere in her early teens," Elliot points to her photo as he starts. "We haven't come across any missing children reports." He stops as his captain walks around the side of the board and reads the little information they have. "Right now, we've got nothin'."

"Not true." Munch responds reverently. "We got ourselves a young girl, average looking, walking around the city at nightfall. Maybe she was part of an insurgent group working to bring down the US Government…"

"Jesus." Fin mutters. "Here we go again."

"Hear me out for a second." John pleads, and continues to talk. "A girl, alone…"

"Wait." Fin interrupts, "Who says she's alone?"

"She's gotta be." Elliot adds.

"Right." Munch agrees. "If she's with someone, our perp won't grab her, won't kill her, because there's risk of getting seen, of getting caught."

"So, she was either alone, or we've got another body out there somewhere." Elliot shuddered. "That's a scary thought."

"So, what's a young girl doing along in Manhattan at dusk? I mean, that's just asking to be jumped." Fin points out

"Hold it," Olivia says from behind her desk's computer screen. "There's two schools near where the body was found, and P.S. one-eighty just happens to be down the block."

"So… maybe she was walking home from school." Cragen interjects from the back of the squad room, where he'd slipped in without anyone noticing. "El, Liv, canvas the schools. Munch and Fin, see if she cut through the park on her way wherever she was going. Maybe she left something behind."

Nodding their heads, the team grabs their jackets. They know they're in for a long day, but the prospect of potential evidence has them revved.

No one wants this guy on the street any longer.

* * *

As they travel down the grey halls of the public school, Detectives Benson and Stabler drown out the noisy chatter of today's youth and keep their eyes open for a teacher. Originally, they had gone to the principal's office, but were redirected to the halls after being told that Principal Harlan is out and about the school grounds. They come across a short, bitter looking man, who looks as if he's regretting his career, the spitting image of the secretary's description.

Clearly not everybody's cut out to handle the riot that is a teenager.

"Excuse me," Olivia's attempt at getting the man's attention is successful, and he heads towards her. "You Principal Harlan?"

"Yes." He says with a deep breath. He's expecting her to complain about her child's studies, and the thought of yet another parent telling him how the school is causing their delinquents to misbehave sickens him. He's not even the slightest bit surprised when the detectives flash their badges and identify themselves. "How can I help you?"

"Did she attend this school?" Elliot asks as he holds up a photo of their victim.

Harlan's forced smile drops and now, he's taken aback. The photo is of their victim, his leading lady for a school play, and someone's dead child.

"Yeah," He manages. "That's Kayleigh Richards. She was a junior this year… What happened to her?"

"That's what we're trying to find out." Olivia says as they gear the conversation away from the students. "Did you notice anything different with her? Anyone odd hangin' around?"

"Can't say that I have, detective. There's so many kids in this school, I usually only come across the ones in trouble. The only reason I knew Kayleigh was because of the Monster Mash."

"Monster Mash?" Elliot's never heard of such a thing, and his mind settles on various ideas of what it could be.

"It's our school's Halloween play. The students dress up and put on a show, y'know, singing and dancing 'n stuff. I've been directing it since our drama teacher quit. Kayleigh was the lead."

"That explains the outfit." Olivia says to Elliot, who simply nods. "Mr. Harlan, Kayleigh was found in Battery Park last evening, any idea what she might be doing there so late?" She asks as they stop in front of his office.

Harlan swallows hard. "I have no idea."

"Okay, well we're gonna need an address-" Elliot starts, but Harlan cuts him off.

"I'll go get her file."

A few moments later, Principal Harlan returns with a manila folder. He hands it over to the detectives and excuses himself.

"Dad lives in Jersey City, but mom lives five blocks from here."

"Let's go."

* * *

  
Casey sits comfortably on the floor in front of her coffee table, occupying both her laptop and the television. It's just after seven and she's already beat. Her blonde hair is messily pulled back into a pony tail, and her bangs shape her face. Normally she isn't so lazy, but today hasn't exactly been kind and she can care less about her appearance. She supposes it's due to the stress of the job, but she can never be sure. Life has this annoying way of throwing punches and eventually, dodging them becomes exerting.

She pays no attention to the TV, it's merely noise to make home feel less empty, and instead surfs the trenches of the web. For years she's searched for a word, just one word and its meaning. She has no clue as to what language it's in, how to spell it, or what it can even begin to mean, she just knows she hates the word more than anything. And that she absolutely has to know what it means.

She's used several different spellings, and still, nothing ever shows up. The outcome doesn't change today, and she sighs in frustration.

The young woman hears the lock on the front door jiggle, and then the unlocking of the deadbolt. She quickly exits out of the browser and tries to make herself look busy with preparing an argument as if she were up to no good.

Toddler in hand, Elliot shuts the door behind him. He sets Eli on the ground and the two grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Eli, who's become used to the lovely way of traveling by foot, wobbles his small self over to Casey.

"Hi Eli," She greets happily with a vast smile on her face. He mumbles a shy "hi" and presses his hand against her square-framed glasses to keep from losing his balance, leaving a smudge. She sighs and pulls them off her face, and breathes on them. She grabs hold of his shirt intending to use the soft fabric, but the newly mobile tot starts to take off. "Whoa there turbo, get back here. You smudged my glasses; you're de-smudging 'em."

Elliot chuckles to himself. The first night Eli had spent the night with them, she was terribly awkward around the child. It took a few weekends for her to warm up to him, but when she did, he couldn't help but find it a perfect sight. He swears he falls in love with her just a little more each time she interacts with kids.

After she finishes using Eli's shirt as glasses cleaner, Casey slips them back on and notices the bags on her counter. "Did you go grocery shopping for me?" She asks, half shocked and half hoping he did. She doesn't mind shopping, unless it's for food. She becomes so indecisive at the grocery store.

"Not really, I just got some snacks and stuff." He smiles at her goofy frown. "Was I supposed to?"

"No, but you are supposed to say hi to me."

Elliot makes his way over to her and cups her cheek. She's expecting just a little taste, but ends up getting the whole bite, tongue and all. A pleased smile spreads across her face, but it quickly turns to one of embarrassment when she realizes Eli is watching them, and her cheeks flush.

"What?" Elliot asks, a little confused by the behavior.

"Eli. He's looking at us." Her statement causes Elliot to laugh. "El, seriously. I'm not gonna do stuff in front of him."

"We only kissed, and it's not like he knows what we do anyway."

"That's a lie. I remember my parents… I knew, trust me. I knew." She shudders at the though and he shakes his head, laughing to himself. "Yeah, you'll be laughing when you end up paying for his therapy sessions." She jokes.

He gives her a peck on the lips before retreating to the kitchen.

It's been only a week or two short of two months that they've been together and already, Elliot has found use in that spare key lying on top of the front door casing. It had been casually pointed out to him and after realizing the undertones in Casey's words, he decided to take a chance. And since then, they've only progressed further into a relationship, each day more serious than the last.

Neither are really sure how they have become so close, but everything is new and they enjoy the time spent exploring one another, in every way possible. Elliot often questions his feelings for her, sometimes thinking that maybe it has to do with his divorce, that had it been anyone else there consoling him, the same thing would have happened, though he isn't sure it'd be lasting this long.

Casey, on the other hand, is still nervous about it all. She feels the hurry and she doesn't like it. She figures it's because he isn't really used to dating, and he probably doesn't even realize he's rushing them. She also knows he isn't the only one at fault. She has a tendency to back down too fast, play it safe and slow. She doesn't know how much longer they'll last like this, racing ahead and running away, but she chooses to overlook it for now.

What they have, it's comfort, something they need more than anything.

* * *

**S/N:** No beta, all mistakes belong to me. Review!? We're desperate to know your opinions! :D


	3. Branded

**Side Bar, Your Honour?:** So, here it is, my chapter of our wait, what did LA Lights call it? Great fic? (I called it grand, Jenna, GRAND.) Epic fic? I can't remember, and I'm too lazy to check, so let me start over. Here's my chapter for Past Tense, Future Perfect. Reviews are lovely.

**Disclaimer:** We own nada. Zip. Zero. Neinte. Seeing a pattern?

May – 1993

She ruled her school. And she'd worked hard to earn her title. Seventeen and beautiful, Alexandra Cabot had her whole life before her. She was near the top of her class, Prom Queen and no particular goals for her future. She lived in the moment, enjoyed the things she did, and the things she had.

She had no qualms about doing whatever it took to keep those things.

As long as nobody found out. Because after all, she thought, what's the use of being adored, if secretly, everyone hates you?

So, bulky headphones clasped over her ears, a Backstreet Boys CD spinning in her walkman, she trotted along the platform at Grand Central Station, headed for the exit, headed for home. Friday night and graduation seemed ages away from the sunny Monday afternoon she was currently experiencing. It seemed to her they couldn't come fast enough. A quick glance in both directions told her she knew nobody around, so she slipped a cigarette from the pack secretly stashed in her purse, rolled it between her lips and flicked the lighter.

She hadn't been smoking long enough to be used to the mild high the nicotine provided her body and she took a moment to enjoy the lightheaded feeling; to watch the smoke as it swayed elegantly in the air before floating away with the breeze.

"Now, you don't look old enough to smoke…"

Startled, Alexandra dropped her cigarette, the embers scattering wildly along the platform.

"Goddamn it that was my last one. I suppose you're going to ask to see my ID next?" she spat back with a scowl.

She stared at the man, trying to gauge him, deciding whether or not he was a cop. He hardly looked older than she was, but she didn't judge him as the type of person she would normally have associated with. He wasn't handsome, he wasn't even cute, though, she thought he might have passed into that realm if his hair wasn't hanging so long and greasy or if he wasn't acting so distinctly creepy.

"Nope. I was just making a point. That's all."

"Yeah… well, you're point cost me my last fucking smoke."

"Such a foul mouth…" the man muttered. "Isn't that just typical? You won't talk to me, I don't fit your type."

"Even if you did, I still wouldn't talk to you, I don't know you. Go away." She hissed and began to leave the station, walking somewhat briskly down the street, headed for home.

A meter further along the pavement, she heard footsteps getting faster, and her mind paused. She told herself not to worry, to keep walking.

Faster still.

His steps behind her quickened with a sense of urgency, and she couldn't help it, she started to slightly panic, yet tried to maintain a calm disposition. Not thinking too much, just hurrying back home. Out the corner of her eye to her left, Alexandra spotted a tall pale grey block of apartments and she made the split second decision to head for them, to try and get out of the way. It was squat, and unobtrusive, with half of it's windows boarded up. She only prayed there was at least one person inside them. Just one person she could hide out with, and wait for him to be gone. But as she approached them, in the blink of an eye, his arm was around her neck, pressed against her throat, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

He dragged her, struggling into the building. It stank of old piss and sweat. Clearly a junkie hideaway, empty at the moment, and worlds away from the places Alexandra Cabot would usually spend a Friday evening. She screamed, but there was nobody around anymore to hear it. With one arm around her neck, occasionally tightening his grip, he forced the apartment door shut behind them. He didn't speak. Not one single word, and she looked at the ground and watched each step disappear in a blur of fear and head-spinning trepidation.

He stopped at a landing between flights of stairs and was there that he aggressively and hastily pushed her onto her back. His knee pressed against her chest, pinning her against the cold pale concrete, almost squeezing the life out of her.

"What do you want?" Alexandra murmured helplessly.

"You'll do as I say. I've got a knife, and I know how to use it. Don't doubt that for a single minute, you stupid bitch." He grabbed her face, forced her gaze into his eyes. "Do you understand me?"

"Ye… yes." She whispered, near tears.

He started ripping her clothes off – she fought back, but he hit her – hard. The force of his blow to her face knocked the wind right out of her.

He climbed on top of her, the weight of his body pressing heavily against hers. His mouth just above her ear, and it was then that he said all sorts of things. Told her that this is what she had wanted. That this is what they had wanted. He forcibly penetrated her, the pain was unlike anything she had known before.

Pinned underneath him, trapped.

There was no way of getting out. He was all over her, on her – inside of her. Her eyes darted around the room, frantically searching for something to focus on, to take her mind and somehow her body away from what was happening. There was a small, frosted, dimly lit window on the wall behind him and she just focused on that. She imagined she was outside, in the sun, blue skies…

Anywhere but there.

Like the cutting of a rope, he found his release, and finished with a sigh, a slight moan. But Alexandra was too terrified to move, and too afraid to say or do anything that might antagonize him further. While he fished in his pants for something, she cowered against the concrete of the wall, concentrating on her blue skies, hoping for her life.

When he turned around, he held a Swiss army knife in his hand, and he flicked it open in much the same way Alexandra had stuck her lighter moments earlier.

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?" she choked out, fear dripping in her voice.

"Don't be stupid." He muttered through gritted teeth, and began to fish in the pockets of her pants for something. "Aha!" he cried, withdrawing her lighter, he held the metal blade to the flame. "I'm just going to remind you of me. You'll always be mine now, a ghra"

And with another quick flash, he'd taken the burning metal and carved a star into her flesh, marking her chest just bellow her left breast.

Branded over the heart.

He smiled as the blood ran in a small river down her thin frame, and brushed his thumb over her chin, a gesture of tenderness. A wave of nausea rolled up high, and she somehow managed to fight it back down, trying to do everything in her power to make him leave quickly.

And as quickly as he'd arrived, he'd vanished. It was then that Alexandra allowed herself to succumb to the tears. The sickness washed over her again, and she didn't fight it this time, retching in violent waves, trying to cleanse herself of him. Exhaustion crept in shortly after, cold and clammy, she laid down on the cement stairs and closed her eyes, unable to make herself think, unable to make herself try any longer.


	4. Dancing

Bad news: this chapter is short and over due. Good news: there'll be a quick update because **JennaLynne** writes fast. :D Enjoy!

JL: Your chapters are short so mine can be too! :)

* * *

"Mrs. Richards? Do you need a moment?" Olivia asks Kayleigh's mother. Delivering the bad news surely isn't her favorite thing to do, but she's always had a way with words, however bad the situation is.

Patty Richards can't hold herself together anymore. She can't speak, she can't breathe and she's choking on her thoughts. Her baby is gone, before her time and without a goodbye. Never mind the fact that her daughter's life was stolen, the innocent girl was violated and brutalized, thrown to the wolves. Her baby girl didn't even stand a chance.

"No, no. I can do this." Patty says moue so to herself.

"Okay."

"Do you mind if I look in Kayleigh's room?" Elliot asks as politely as he can, hoping she'll agree and praying they'll find something worth their time. Patty shakes her head and he leaves the two women to talk.

"Has Kayleigh had any problems at school?"

"She was a straight A student, never had any problems with anything."

"What about here at home?"

"No, I mean there was the occasional argument, but what sixteen-year-old doesn't fight with their mom?"

Olivia nods. "We're gonna need to talk to her friends,"

"She didn't have many close friends, just acquaintances." Patty holds her breath to fight back a sob before speaking again. "There's Hannah Davis. Those two were like sisters until earlier this year, she just stopped coming around. Kayleigh said they just outgrew each other."

* * *

Elliot takes mental notes on Kayleigh's bedroom.

It's like a rainbow threw up, creatively. The art all over the walls show Kayleigh's talent and if not for her signature at the bottom of each painting and sketch, Elliot would've never guessed they were hers.

He moves around the piles of clothes and miscellaneous objects thrown on the floor, he feels like he's walking through his youngest daughter's room, only with more colors.

As he makes his way over to the painted desk, he finds a post-it with hearts around on email address. He remembers her mother saying Kayleigh had no boyfriend, but he knows from personal experience that mothers and fathers don't always know everything. The post-it only proves his case.

The detective walks back out into the living room just as Olivia hands Patty her card.

"Mrs. Richards, does Kayleigh have private internet access?"

"No. We don't even have a computer. We can't afford it."

Luckily, Patty isn't under any suspicion, which gives the detectives room to excuse themselves.

* * *

Dr. Warner waits a brief second for the detectives to gather around the autopsy table, like children in a school yard whose days of digging have finally paid off after finding a worn. It's a small break in the case, a newly opened door.

"What's the big news?" Munch asks as he places his hands in his pocket, unlike his partner who seems to be clueless as to what he should do with his.

"I wouldn't say big, just… important. Once I discarded her clothing, I saw this," Melinda pulls back the sheet and points to a scar on the girl's ribcage. It's been cleaned, courtesy of the medical examiner, but it's obvious it isn't old.

"Someone carved a star on her?" Fin stares at it, disgusted.

"Right over her heart."

"Well it might narrow it down," Munch states. "If we enter this en the database, we might find a similar case."

"You really think it's gonna come down to that?"

"You never know my friend, you never know."

* * *

"Hannah, Mrs. Richards told you us you used to be friends with Kayleigh."

"Emphasis on used to." The brunette sasses. Elliot makes a face and Olivia wants to pop the girl upside the head. "She's a freak. Why do you wanna know anyway?"

"Kayleigh was murdered last week." Elliot says, hoping the words hit the girl.

"Ohh, poor thing," Hannah's attitude screams "bitch" and he wonders how someone could be so cold.

"Why don't you tell us exactly what happened between you two?"

The blonde flips her hair and shrugs. While the detectives already have the thoughts of her imprinted in their minds, Hannah's iced heart cracks. She had thrown away their tightly knitted friendship quicker than rumors spread for two-faced queen bees. She had to audition for the part, turn off her emotions and look pretty, otherwise it would have been just her and Kayleigh. The idea doesn't seem so bad now, though.

"I made new friends, she didn't."

* * *

Alex knocks on Casey's office door before letting herself in. Her hands are a little shaky but she's telling herself it's okay. She and the unnatural blonde lawyer have a sort of closeness that isn't your usual brand. They aren't friends, but they trust one another enough to wordlessly comfort the other. Half the time they aren't even aware they're doing it.

So when her boss enters her office with that look in her eye, the one that gives herself away, Casey drops everything.

"Hey," Alex closes the door behind her and takes a seat. She sets the opened file in front of Casey's eyes and slouches. "SVU got this case a little while ago."

Casey reads through the details and quickly remembers it. She had been wondering why it never made it to her desk.

Alex had it.

"I know. I saw the crime scene." Casey closes it quickly as soon as she reads about the star. She's hurting now but she can't let on. It's her own personal demon. "Why's it so special?"

"I never said it was."

"You kept it at your desk for over a week, probably in that drawer where you keep your cigs. And that's something." She's pushing it, to defend herself.

"Case, my desk is swamped. It got lost along with several other files and the only reason I brought it to you was because its your job."

"Last time I checked, you didn't hand deliver case files."

Alex sighs.

She's backed in a corner because Casey refuses to acknowledge a thing. She's always been a quick thinker, always been able to get herself out of trouble.

Well, almost always.

"Look, it just sounded familiar. I remember something like this a while back, when I was in SVU."

Casey latches on to her lie and it goes from there.

They dance around what's in the back of their minds until their feet ache. They go home to empty apartments tonight, and lay in bed because there's nothing on TV and they've read all the good books on the shelf. They build walls surrounded by barbed wire because they won't allow this to swallow them whole.

* * *

Side Note; Mistakes are mine, no beta! (:


	5. Snowfall

**Future NYPD and HP Fan:** This quick. :)

* * *

**Side Bar**: Yay for new chapters. (review tons, because that gives me more motivation to blackmail L.A. Lights into writing her chapter. Whine, kick, scream offer bribes, do it all. We need to make her write. :) Enjoy the chapter.

**Disclaimer**: I asked for the SVU rights for my brithday, Dick turned me down. Go figure. Nothing is ours.

* * *

January 2000:

Snow meandered it's way to the ground, each flake moved at it's own pace, fluttering slowly, as if they'd been choreographed, like ballerinas.

The layer that already covered the ground was pristine. Not a single footprint marred the white blanket. And from her position near a window in the Harvard Law Library, Alexandra Cabot found herself staring at the flakes, nostalgic for the days when playing in the snow was considered to be an acceptable activity. She missed the biting cold on her nose, the feeling of a wet snowball as it collided with her body. It was in moments like that where she found she most missed the freedoms of childhood. The innocence she'd lost that fateful day in May; the carefree attitude she knew she'd never regain.

"Sorta makes you wanna lie in it and make snow angels. Seeing it all untouched like that…" a voice called out from behind her, disturbing the thought.

Alex turned around and found herself facing a pretty, young, redheaded girl. The stranger smiled at her, and she returned the grin, laughing slightly, more at herself than anything else. She wondered how the girl seemed to have read her thoughts.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a giant snowball fight." Alex agreed, voicing the inner fantasy. "But yeah, you've the right idea."

"Casey Novak." The girl said softly. "My name's Casey Novak." And she politely extended her hand.

"Alex Cabot." The blonde said and accepted the handshake.

"Oh." Casey said, smiling. "Believe me, I know who you are."

Alex felt her eyebrows shoot up, confusion marked her face.

"Sorry. Have we met before?"

"Not quite" Casey responded, shaking her head. "It's just, after hearing all my professors idealize you for a whole semester, it would be hard not to know who you are."

"I…" the older girl was struck speechless for a moment. "Really?" she finally managed to spit out.

"Apparently, we should all strive to be you…to find 'your motivation'"

"No." she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "No one should ever strive to find my motivation. It's not worth it. No amount of success is worth what it took to push me this hard."

"I… know what you mean." Casey whispered so softly, Alex wasn't sure she was meant to hear it. The blonde's eyes darted out the window again for a moment, distracted by a gust of wind blowing more snow around, whiting out the sky. Alex didn't see it as the younger girl became lost in her own thoughts, as Casey trailed her hand slowly over her own ribcage, over a scar. Over a mark she'd been branded with four years earlier. The physical pain was gone, but she wasn't sure if the emotional pain would ever vanish.

"I really hope you don't." Alex finally managed, deciding it was best to respond to the comment, whether it was meant to be heard or not.

"Alex…" Casey opened her mouth to say more, but shut it again.

"So." The third year said, changing the subject quickly. "I'm thinking it's time for a coffee run."

"I was headed that way myself, until I saw the opportunity to meet the infamous Alexandra Cabot, and of course, decided to take it."

The blonde shot the redhead a patronizing smile.

"Are you seeing the opportunity to buy your broke idol a cup of coffee?"

Casey pressed her fingers to her temples, mimed a psychic trance. "I'm seeing that I've spent all my spare cash on… booze."

Alex laughed, loudly and clearly, disrupting the eerie silence that encompassed the library. "Ah, to be a 1L again, without a care in the world. You know, I think I'm going to like you, Casey Novak." She stood slowly, leaving all her possessions save her jacket, behind.

Casey looked astonished. "You don't think… I mean won't someone steal your shit?"

"My bar review books? I'm pretty sure they're safe hun." She pulled the jacket over hear shoulders and waited for Casey to do the same before beginning the trek outside, through to snow, towards the 24 hour 7/11 around the corner. "Hell, at 2am, I probably don't need to leave them there to claim the seat. It's not like anyone else is around to steal it. But," she sighed "it's habit now. And I am rather fond of that particular chair. I'd rather not risk it."

"You're willing to chance you're things getting stolen… to save your seat?" Casey asked incredulously, and liberally added milk and sugar to her coffee as she watched Alex sip her own, black.

"Oh, you've much to learn, young one." Alex responded with a mirth filled laugh and pulled her walled from her jacket, giving the night manager money for both coffees. "Clearly, you don't understand the value of a window seat in the library."  
"No. I guess I don't. Actually, to be honest, I get distracted when I sit there. I always stare out the window."

"Thus the basis of its appeal." She smiled, and they began their walk back towards the library. "we all need a distraction once in a while.

Casey smiled half heartedly. "I guess there's a lot of truth in that."

Alex turned to the young redhead, the wind whipping her blonde hair around her face. "Hold this for a sec?" she asked softly, but didn't wait for a response, just pushed her coffee into the other girls hands and pulled a worn pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket. She flicked her thumb over the lighter, once. Twice, until the end of the cigarette finally caught, and the tobacco began to simmer. She reached over and took her coffee back. "Thanks." She muttered.

Casey tapped her foot slowly, as she watched her new friend take long drag after long drag off the burning ember. Her mind raced at over 100 miles an hour. She thought about what Alex had said before, about 'not wanting anyone to find her motivation'. And Casey thought about what had happened her senior year of high school, about the scar that marked her chest and how Alexandra Cabot probably had no idea what real motivation was.

"It's frickin freezing out here." Alex murmured, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, I know. And to think that we actually wanted to come out and play in it."

Alex nodded vehemently, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth as an idea came to her suddenly. She bent down slowly to stub out the butt of her cigarette, and watched as Casey took a few more steps toward the building, ready to be out of the cold. Alex rolled the ice into a smooth ball and watched it soar through the air, watched it collide with the freshman's back.

"What… what the hell?"

The blonde laughed uproariously, cold air sinking into her lungs to the point where it almost hurt. "It's all in your hair… and you just… you look ridiculous."

Casey growled and picked up a bunch of snow, hurtled it at the older girl. "You wanna play, okay then. Let's play."

The coffee cups lay discarded on the ground, the brown liquid they once held spread thin across the once white blanket of snow. They tossed slush and ice for an hour. Giggling and shouting, disturbing the peace of Boston at 3am.

And they didn't care one bit.

Because for just that moment, they could be children again, completely innocent, without a care in the world.


	6. Tonight

**an:** This chapter has been edited 7/04/12.

* * *

"Anything?" Detective Stabler hovers over his colleague's shoulder, watching the computer screen. Munch narrows down the search in hopes for even one similar case, and with it a possible suspect but the task has proven itself a hassle. Every case seems to be the same; they all seem to be committed by the same sick rapist.

"Not yet," Munch sighs when Elliot continues to invade his personal bubble. "Would you like to help yourself?"

"Sorry," He hears the annoyance in the older detective's voice and backs off some. He can't seem to help himself when it comes to this case; it's starting to get under his skin and bite. He can't help seeing his daughters when he stares at the crime scene photos and he's desperate to get these images out of his head.

A few minutes pass and finally, the older detective has something worth his attention. He does a quick scan and aside from the facts, his gut is screaming.

"Here we go," He says and Elliot is right behind him again. "Same pattern, same age as Kayleigh, same mark."

Elliot throws on his coat and quickly memorizes the address of the victim, and heads out with Olivia on his tail.

Being partners, Olivia and Elliot can read each other pretty well, but the former just can't seem to get inside the latter's mind, not today anyway. He's been awfully quiet, withdrawn even, and she can't figure it out. She knows his children seem to find their way into thoughts about a case every now and then, but something tells her that isn't it. Something tells her he may not even know.

Really, Elliot just wants to this case to end. He's speeding not because he wants to get there quicker to get facts, but because the quicker they get there, the quicker they can rule out the possibility of a serial rapist. And the easier it'll be to force their eyes to see the end.

* * *

Olivia sits silently across the table from Nicole Carter's parents as they talk. Michael and Janice had raised their daughter, along with her younger brother in Brooklyn as it was their home town. Nicole was a pretty blonde with a decent handful of friends and straight B's. She was average, yet for some reason, special enough to be the victim. As soon as they had lost any ounce of hope, the Carter family packed their bags and moved to Connecticut, giving the detectives a mini road trip.

"And they didn't find any suspects?" Elliot asks.

"There was one guy, the school janitor." Janice catches the crack in her throat before anyone else can hear it as old wounds are reopened. "But he had an alibi."

"You don't sound convinced."

"One of the detectives on the case said he thought his friend was lying for him. Said it was 'too convenient', but no one could prove it." Michael responded.

They go on to question about Nicole's after school activities, her friends and her enemies, if she had any at all. They come to the conclusion that Nicole was yet another average teenage girl, a seemingly random target. Nothing links her or anyone else to the detectives' current case and they're beginning to think nothing will.

* * *

With a weighed down mind and an equally heavy heart, Casey finds herself taking a cab home. She feels drunk on emotions and she can't trust herself behind the wheel of her own car. Her legs want to give out entirely, and she wonders if it at all looks like she's unsteady as she makes her way to the yellow taxi.

"Fourth and Carrington," She says absentmindedly. For the five minutes after the driver acknowledged her, she tries to remember if those were in fact the words that came out of her mouth, or if she only gave him the names of two streets she's never been down.

The cab driver eyes her in his rear view mirror, curious, "Rough day?"

Casey makes a noise, not quite a yes, not quite a no.

"I hear ya," He says. He's a kind guy, though he can't seem to take the hint very well. "What do you do?"

"Just take me home, please."

They give each other the silent treatment the rest of the way and Casey hands over a decent tip, more than the majority of his passengers give, as a quiet 'thank you'. Never has she been so grateful for someone to shut their trap.

As she trails up the stairway to her floor, she begins to wish she had taken the elevator. The sound of her heels on the hard steps echo around her and her mind starts to play tricks on her. Her heart races as it did the day said heart grew a frozen cover, and so she walks quicker and quicker until she's in the hallway of her floor. She holds a quick pace until she's safe behind her apartment door.

"You okay?" Elliot asks, finding her behavior odd.

His girlfriend leans her back against the door and catches her breath more so from the oncoming panic attack than the running. "Yeah, I just took the stairs."

"Did you run?" He says as he watches her hang her coat and throw her purse and briefcase on the table. He laughs a little, trying to ease her; she seems tense for some reason and he places his small worry to the back of his mind for later.

"Shutup," She says, returning his barely-there laugh.

Elliot's a little quick to her side, and before she can put two and two together, the lights go off and he's behind her with his head on her shoulder and arms around her waist. She's surprised to see a little candle-lit dinner for two on the coffee table in her living room.

"TV Dinners and candles? Wow El, you really went out of your way." She jokes what with sarcasm being her forte and all.

"Yeah, well, I try."

Casey laughs, whole heartedly, and Elliot just laughs at her semi-high pitched noise. She turns around to face him and sees his carefree smile, envies it even. She stares at his lips and then his eyes, wondering why he adores her the way he does.

"It's great," She feels safe right there, with him. "Thank you." And she's worried that's _all_ she feels.

It isn't long before his lips come within inches of hers. She gives a small smirk and raises a brow, curious as to why he's looking at her the way he is.

"What?"

"You're beautiful."

"You're cheesy."

He laughs and after what seems like forever, fills every space between them. He breathes her in and she struggles to keep the moment between them alive. But she can't focus on anything but the conversation she had with Alex earlier in the day. Or lack of, rather.

She needs to know why.

"El," She pushes herself away from him, flinching at the confusion in his eyes. He can see that look of hers, that clouded expression she has to let him know that she's too lost in her thoughts. It hurts her to continuously push him away, and she can only imagine how he feels.

Defeated, he backs up and begins to put on his coat.

"I don't know what's going on with you, and that's becoming a problem, Casey." He pauses, hoping for some sort of response, but he's met with an adverted gaze. So, he gives up, and slams the door behind him.


	7. Begining

**Author's Note**: I'm going to take this space to pimp my new story. It's called Impulse, and of course, its Alex Cabot. Go check it out, you won't regret it! Also, good news. We're crankin' the updates now. You won't have to wait too long for the next one. I promise. :)

**Disclaimer**: I own niente.

* * *

September 2002:

Alex watched the storm build. Black clouds boiled in a black sky, they crushed every inch of the rising sun with their weight and temper. The wind howled like a feral wolf hunting for blood. Needle bright spears of lighting slashed and snapped and shot at the tops of skyscrapers. The witchy scent of ozone stung the air before thunder exploded.

It was a tempestuous rain. The kind of rain that comes down so heavy it sounds like the shower's running even when you've turned it off. The kind of rain that makes you think of damns flash floods, and arks. The kind of rain that tells you to crawl back into bed, where the sheets haven't lost your body heat, to pretend the clock is five minutes earlier than it really is.  
As the meteorological fight raged outside, with thunder and lightning clashing loudly, seemingly at war with the rain droplets that hammered away at the window pane, Alex lay awake, on her back, still wrapped in a tumult of blankets, fearing the moment her alarm clock would buzz and force her from the warm sanctuary of her bed.

But when the alarm clock finally sounded its resounding buzz, Alex didn't hit the snooze button. Instead, she dragged herself from bed, and stepped gently but deliberately over a pair of dirty jeans. She glanced around, sighing. The room looked as if a twister had swept through it, clothing strewn everywhere. Her once so called "organized chaos" had simply become chaos. She kicked aside a pair of trainers that hadn't fit since she was a third year law student, and revealed a bare spot of carpet.

"Well, what'da know," she mused with a hint of amusement playing in her voice "The carpet is blue. I'd forgotten."

For a brief fleeting moment, she wondered if she should devote Saturday morning to cleaning it up. But as quickly as the idea had come, it had vanished, for a small piece of her enjoyed having a messy bedroom. A small rebellion of sorts against what she'd become. A little piece of what she was before that fateful day in May so many years ago, carefree.

The coffee took impossibly long to brew, and the shower in her tiny apartment never seemed to get truly hot enough to burn away the rough edges of sleep. But nevertheless, within an hour, she was showered, caffeinated, and dressed, ready to begin her first day as the 16th Precinct's ADA.

_Sex crimes_. She thought to herself with a shudder. _It's why I became a lawyer. And I'm not about to let something like fear get in my way_. With the self-induced pep talk on her mind, Alex drained the last of her now cold coffee, and left the safety of her apartment, ready to deal with whatever may come.

* * *

She watched as the Morris Commission revealed its findings to various Captains and Lieutenants. But as they spoke, as they announced the potential wrongdoings of these cops, she found her thoughts wandering. She wondered how Casey Novak was doing in her third year at Harvard. She hadn't seen the girl since her own graduation, but occasionally they called eachother and chatted on the phone. "Catching up" they called it. And always they talked about visits, but it never seemed to work out the way they wanted. She missed Casey. Alex realized with a start. And that was rare. She hadn't let herself grow close to anyone since high school. But something about the young redhead grabbed her attention, latched onto the very depths of her soul, and just wouldn't let go.

The blonde crossed her legs, un-crossed them, and re-crossed, waiting nervously as the Commissioner called out for Captain Cragen. She listened intently, and watched as Cragen defended his squad, claiming that he was under the impression the psych evaluations would've been kept confidential. Cabot found herself laughing internally. He should've known better. She thought with a shake of her head. Nothing is ever a secret forever. And then, she realized he had been dismissed, and it was time for her to make her move.

"Captain Cragen?"

"You must be ADA Cabot." He muttered with a shake of his head.

She nodded. "Alex."

"Well Alex" he amended with a hint of distain playing in his voice "I don't really have time for this now."

"Fine then, breakfast tomorrow."

He moved his head in a motion of assent, and then quickly, he was gone.

_He doesn't like me._ She thought to herself. _Well, not all that surprising really, I've technically been assigned to be his babysitter. Nobody liked to be watched. But he'll have to suck it up, because I'm here to stay._ And with that notion on her mind, Alexandra Cabot smoothed out both her skirt and her hair, and she too, made her exit.

* * *

It was only September, but the air in Boston already held a distinct chill, something reminiscent of the cold winters of the past, and the ones still to come. Casey pulled up on the zipper of her fleece jacket, drawing the lapels closer together to keep the cold out.

"I fucking hate the cold." She muttered more to herself than anyone else, but a reply came, none the less, of course from her fiancé, Charlie.

"If you hate it so much, why did you pick a school in the northeast? Why didn't you go to law school in like, Miami or something?"

She laughed, deep and carefree as she turned the key in the lock of their apartment. "Gee, why didn't I think of that?"

"'Cause you need me around to come up with these brilliant ideas for you."

She stifled another laugh, and reached up on her tip toes to press their lips together. "I need you around for a whole lot of things."

"True." He agreed easily, and turned towards the kitchen. "So, what do you want for dinner?"

Casey shrugged, indifferent. "Doesn't really matter" she called out as she made her way into the bedroom, stripping clothes with every step she took. And then the thought struck her. "Charl – take your meds."

From the other room he rolled his eyes, but reached up into the cabinet above the refrigerator and removed the pill bottle. He filled a glass of water, and removed one of the tiny white mind control devices from the little orange bottle. Then he thought: Why? He'd had the same thought every day for the past two weeks, and every day the response had been the same. Down the drain went the little pill, washed away into the nowhere land of the sewers, never to be seen again.

"Yeah." he finally responded, now that he knew she was in the shower. "On that Case."

* * *

Without the pills, he felt more like himself, the voices were company. And they told him things that made him feel intelligent. Gave him legal strategies that he just somehow knew would work. When he listened to them, they brought him success. But without them, even with Casey at his side, he felt more alone than anyone could ever imagine.

"I swear," Casey whispered contentedly, disturbing his daydream. "If I was half as good of a cook as you are, it would be impressive. Are you sure you want to be a lawyer? You should be a chef or something."

He laughed. "Just because I can boil a pot of water, doesn't make me a master chef. And you could learn, if you put any effort into it at all…"

"But you forget, I don't want to learn. And if I did, what use would I have to keep you around?" she quipped. His face grew hard, hurt by her words. Unbeknownst to her, he waged an internal war with the voice inside his head. She's trying to hurt you. She doesn't love you Charlie. She's can't. You're crazy, remember? Nobody loves a crazy.

"Charl? You okay?" she asked softly, concern apparent in her tone.

"SHUT UP!" he bellowed, more at the voice within his own head than at her. But the anger had consumed him now. He flipped over the table, sending food and dishes flying. Glass shattered, and Casey screamed.

Charlie reeled back his fist, and it connected with her face, fast and violent. The blow knocked her to the floor, and she crawled into herself throwing her hands in front of her face to protect it.

"You need me here Casey! Or maybe you don't. Maybe you can get your food, and your sex elsewhere. Who have you been spreading your legs for slut?" He kicked her, in the legs, ribs and arms.

Once. Twice. Again.

"Charlie, I never- You're the only one I've ever been with!"

He cut her off. "Liar! You weren't a virgin when I met you! Why are you always lying to me!"

She cried out, begging him to stop, pleading for mercy. The memories came rushing back in a flood. Her freshman year of undergraduate university, a man on a train station platform, a knife and a lighter. A star shaped mark adorning her breast. Rape.

Finally, she gave up, she stopped fighting Charlie, just as she'd eventually stopped struggling with the man. But the simple whimper she'd issued was enough to snap her fiancé back to his senses.

"Casey… I… oh god." And without another word, he'd fled the apartment, the door slamming harshly behind him, leaving her crumpled on the floor, the tears falling freely.

* * *

The knock at the door was quick and sharp followed by the very last words Casey Novak wanted to hear in that moment.

"Boston PD, open up!"

She somehow managed to drag herself off the linoleum floor and over to the heavy wooden door. She opened it slowly, and faced the two uniformed officers. One tall and thin, the other, much younger, short and squat.

"Ma'am are you alright?"

"Yes, yes." She muttered, wiping away the remains of the tears. "A fight, got out of hand. I'm sorry."

"Miss, did you want to press charges?"

She shook her head. "No. Charlie, my fiancé, he's sick. Schitzophrenia. It's not his fault, he must have gone off his medication." She said softly, unwilling to believe the words herself.

"Where is he now?" the taller asked.

"Gone." She responded simply.

"If he returns, and you need help," the younger put in "here is my card. You've only to call."

Casey smiled kindly and bid them goodnight. She hoped forever.


	8. Friendly Fire

**an:** chapter fixed as of 3/20/13.

* * *

Casey finds herself fixated on the contents outside her living room window. The occasional blurred red and yellow lights of traffic flowing down the street have her emerald eyes in a trance. Finally, she blinks and shuts her eyes for a moment, ready for sleep. But naturally, her mind is running and isn't willing to set work aside. She has too many questions, too many thoughts. Too many memories.

A knife against her throat, digging into her. She remembers exactly what it's like to swallow against a blade. It's all becoming too real for her now. She's always hoped repression would save her, but it hasn't quite worked out that way. The clock strikes 3am and she decides that's her cue to head for bed, and end her thought process. She starts down the hall only to stop in her tracks. It's darker than she'd like, and she can feel the panic set in. She had never been afraid of the dark before, but all of this has her so uneasy.

She can't escape the fear.

**…**

"I don't get this," Olivia nearly shouts. "Two of a kind, and no connections." She's pacing in front of her desk with her hand on her hip, utterly baffled by the smoothness of their perp's crimes. "No DNA, no relation between the victims besides their hair color, no nothing!" She sits on the edge of her desk, and calms herself down. If there's even one victim, there's always a chance for another.

"So maybe we overlooked something," Elliot offers. He's just as frustrated as his partner, but his mind is definitely somewhere else. He finds this to be a good thing when Benson is more stressed out than he is. He thought he was bad.

"Elliot, c'mon," She starts, "Battery Park was filled with uniforms and search dogs, we searched Kayleigh's locker and you searched her room."

And out of nowhere, something in Elliot's head clicks. "That's it,"

"What's it?"

"Her room. I found a paper on her desk, had an email address with hearts all around it." He begins looking through his top left drawer of his desk until he produces the small post-it. "When we found Nicole Carter's case I forgot all about it."

"But an email address?" Olivia asks, not sure it has any relevance at all. "Mrs. Richards said they didn't even have a computer."

"No, but P.S. One Eighty does."

**…**

Principal Harlan is caught by the detectives just as he's ready to go home. Of course. It's his luck.

"Detectives, what can I do for you?" His voice is that of a burnt out man.

"Do your students have access to the internet?" Elliot asks rather harshly.

"For research and what not, yeah, there are some computers in the library." He stops for a moment, "Why?"

"We're gonna need to look at the history,"

"We have a site-blocker, detectives."

"And there's ways to get around that."

"They're a bunch of kids," He says as if that's really all they are. "They wouldn't know how to do that."

TARU assistant, Liam, is just another someone making being home on time a dream in Harlan's book. As he shows him how easy it is to get around the website blocker and how naïve he has been, Harlan sits himself down, ready for a lengthy stay.

With the detectives over his shoulder, Liam manages to locate the email address in the history, along with every message sent from that person to Kayleigh Richards.

"Looks like your vic had a little love interest," Liam says.

"With who?"

"Aiden Connor," Liam's eyes squint behind his glasses as he pulls up the webpage belonging to the kid. "Eighteen years old, lives out in Queens. No photos though."

"How could we have missed this?" Olivia says.

**…**

Aiden Connor is pushed with a great deal of force on the same kind of chair he remembers sitting on back in elementary school. At first, being in an interrogation room was a little exciting as he's a crime show fan and up until a certain Detective Stabler got rough, he was sort of enjoying it.

"Why'd you kill her?" Elliot raises his voice.

"I don't know what you're talking about," His jaw clenches.

"You know, I'm gettin' a little tired of hearing that. 'I didn't do it, I did nothing wrong'... If that were the case, I guarantee you wouldn't be sitting across from me, sweating." Elliot folds his arms across his chest. "So tell me, why is that you've been sending a minor love letters, Connor?"

Aiden stays silent. So he turns thirty-two next month, so he's a bit heavier than he had mentioned, so what? He's done nothing wrong.

"Aiden," Olivia intervenes, "Tell us what happened. You get a little too rough?"

"No!"

"C'mon," Elliot chimes in. "There's lots of ways this could've happened, she changed her mind, she owed you… tell us now, help us out, and we can get you a deal. If we find out on our own, you're getting life."

Olivia refrains from scolding her partner. His little lie could very well blow up in their faces, and she, for one, isn't willing to risk that. But still, she plays along. Aiden sweats, he's nervous.

They got him.

"I'm telling you, I didn't kill her. I loved her."

"Right," Elliot hasn't heard such a ridiculous accusation since, well, the last time he heard an identical lie.

"Look, I just talked to her through IM's and emails. We never even met." Aiden's pleading with them, hoping they believe him. "I swear to you..."

"Biggest crock of shit-"

"Do you know what it's like, detective?" Aiden interrupts Elliot's cynicism. "Do you know what it's like to be hated? Ridiculed? Despised for absolutely no legitimate reason? I'm over thirty years old, and I'm still the same ol' loser I was in high school. Before Kayleigh, the only thing I had was my depression. She was a loner, too. She understood me. I loved her." At this point, he can't contain himself, and he breaks. "She was all I had..."

Though the detectives feel little to no remorse, he sobs away. Elliot can only think of Kayleigh, a vulnerable and naive child with too big of a heart. A deadly combination.

Behind the one-way mirror stands Casey, feeling an equal amount of nothing for the depressed pervert in front of her. She listens briefly to Haung explain how Aiden Connor is essentially an adolescent in a man's body. His mind just couldn't quite catch up.

As Elliot exits the interrogation room, Olivia on his tail, she instructs them to cut Aiden loose. And naturally, Elliot puts up a fight.

"We have nothing on him. Without a complaining victim, we can't charge him for the dirty emails, which is the only piece of evidence we had on him..." Casey adds.

"It's not an easy win, so why bother, right counselor?" His hostility towards the redhead catches Olivia and Haung off guard.

"Elliot, it's highly unlikely he committed these crimes." Haung adds. "He's weak, and not very articulate given his current state of mind. He may be a pedophile, but he isn't our serial killer."

Elliot can only shake his head. He knows that, but sincerely believes Aiden should experience real misery, in a jail cell, with criminals of his own caliber. Still, he eyes their ADA as he exits into the bullpen. He is certain she can do something to get this into court, but won't.

Olivia has half a mind to question him, but isn't so sure she wants in the middle of their game of not so friendly fire.


	9. Nothing At All Anymore

**an**: A few things you guys need to know. One, this chapter sucks. I'm not happy with it but I feel like nothing else is working and it's necessary as a filler. As you know, this would be JennaLynne's part. The second thing you should know is that this is no longer a collaboration. From here on out, I'm doing both parts, which is why this chapter sucks. I can't replace Jenna's writing. But, I will finish this story, even if it takes another five years. With that being said, I hope you guys can at least enjoy this. Review if you do. Or don't. Whatever. :)

**Disclaimer**: As usual, I own nothing.

* * *

It had been an unsettling realization, when it finally did sink in. Casey was all alone in the world. And she knew it was selfish to have such a thought, but that didn't change a thing. She had felt that way for the better part of the year but always had that small comfort, deep down somewhere, of knowing she could easily make a phone call. Her own stubbornness had prevented her from doing so, though. She sat so still that night, knowing she missed her chance.

Her own body had never felt so heavy. When she had heard the news, she went numb. A mutual classmate, one she hadn't heard from in ages, had informed her of Alex Cabot's death. The only person she truly felt connected with had been gunned-down. It scared her on so many levels.

Alex's murderer had been someone she was prosecuting. Was that field really so dangerous? She wondered if she would be next, if the line of work was really for her. She had already pursued it, already worked her younger years away. It was too late for a redo and that made her nervous. When she had the urge to confide in her friend, and the reminder of her death followed, she didn't care about herself anymore.

She was without her constant, and that made her ache.

* * *

The service was nice, or so she had assumed. She caught the end and watched as they lowered the casket into the ground from a distance. The entire day had shaken her. The weather was gloomy, fitting for a funeral she supposed, but she had hoped for a little sunshine. She wanted at least that much. But the sun was as hidden as it could be at five in the evening.

She waited until dusk was nearly done and over with before exiting her vehicle. She didn't trust herself then as she made her way down the concrete, and she wasn't sure what she had hoped to accomplish by being there. But, she was there. And for a moment, that was all that mattered.

She found Alex's grave and she couldn't bring herself to do more than stare down. The grass and soil beneath her felt odd. None of this felt right, or real. And Casey felt as if she no longer knew anything at all.

* * *

The name Emily rolled off her tongue in such a bitter way. She barely had time to breathe before she was climbing in the back of a blacked-out SUV with federal plates. She had survived and if she wanted it to stay that way, she had to forget who she was.

And then, as she felt his breathe hot on her ear, Alexandra realized she had done just that. It had been okay for the first few months, it really had. She was intrigued by a new set of people, ones that weren't quite as witty. Or intelligent. They had been painfully average, and there hadn't been much competition. Not like the shark pool back in New York.

The change of pace had been refreshing. She could relax, breathe. At least, as far as her career life was concerned. She had found it funny how, back in her notorious city, she had never thought twice about the dangers. But in Small Town, Wisconsin, she feared for her life.

The figure beside her stirred, and she wished so badly that he'd stay asleep.

"What time is it?" He asked, still half asleep.

"A quarter 'till four." She didn't bother to face him. She didn't want his concern that night. Hell, she hadn't even wanted for him to stay the night.

He fell back asleep after muttering an "oh", and she sighed.

It wasn't that he was a bad guy, not at all. He just wasn't _her_ guy. He was Emily's. And it would always be that way. Nothing belonged to her. This life that she lived, it wasn't her's anymore.


	10. Endure

**an**: I wanted to thank you guys for all of the reviews! They're greatly appreciated. I know the last chapter was a bummer, but you gotta take the bad to get to the good, right? Anyway, here is chapter 9. Remember folks, this one takes place in present time, which is around 2008 for this story. The past chapters are like the 90's through the early 00's. Confused yet? Just read...

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything. And I know nothing when it comes to psychology. In fact, I hate psychology. I'm a hard science kind of girl.

* * *

"I often feel as if I'm not in control of my emotions. There are times where I break down over the smallest things, sometimes over nothing at all. I get incredibly frustrated, and I just..."

"You just what?"

"I don't know. I don't know how to react. I feel as if my emotions – the anger, the sadness – I feel as if I can't tell the difference anymore. Everything blurs together. I don't know if my feelings are appropriate for the situations at hand. And when I realize I'm crying over what is essentially nothing, I'm embarrassed. I'm so embarrassed that I can't stop thinking about it, and when I get home I become angry with myself. I feel so childish, particularly when I lose it around other people."

"Can you give me an example?"

"There's this man I've been seeing... He had set up a little dinner for us, and that had been unnerving for me."

"What happened?"

"He looked at me, and he knew. He could see it on my face. And he left. He's a good man, you know. A very good man. And all I seem to do is hurt him."

"What about the ordeal had upset you?"

"Isn't this what I pay you for? To figure these things out?"

"Casey, it isn't necessary to constantly pick fights with me. You come here for a reason, and you know you have to try, too."

The lawyer sighs. "I'm not sure why it bothered me. Sometimes I think we're moving too fast. Other times, I'm simply uncomfortable in my own skin and I want him to go away."

That is, perhaps, the most alarming thing Dr. Goodwin has heard from her patient. She's had her suspicions since their first session, but Casey has yet to reveal anything black and white. While she can be a bit snappy, she is often calm and thoughtful. She truly tries to understand herself, but she is always in shades of gray.

"Casey, were you ever assaulted or abused? Sexually, or in any other manner?" The ADA's wandering attention span shot back to Goodwin faster than expected. And boy, is she ever quick to defend herself.

"What? You think just because I push a man away I'm suddenly a victim? Isn't that a little sexist, doctor?"

"I never asked if you were a victim."

The room grows silent as Casey realizes she's said more than she ever wanted to. It feels absolutely awful to be questioned this way, and she understands why most choose to keep quiet. She understands why she has always chosen to stay quiet. She has every intention of excusing herself, until Goodwin speaks.

"Look at you. You're successful, you've built a life for yourself. You have friends and family who are there for you... You're alive, Casey. You are not a victim. You are, however, human. It's okay to need help, it's okay to ask for it. You will not move forward and get better until you face whatever it is you're afraid of, whatever it is that happened to you." When Casey doesn't respond, Goodwin sighs. "Ben Okri told us that the most authentic thing about us is our capacity to create, to overcome, to endure, to transform, to love, and to be greater than our suffering. I don't think anyone has ever been so right."

* * *

"TARU found nearly a dozen web users Kayleigh had been talking to. They're weeding through them now." Olivia informs as she makes her way through the bullpen. "A lonely girl using the anonymity of the internet as a mask, just so she can be herself, in a world of masked perversions and identities, intentions..." She muses. "It's just too easy."

"I hear that." Elliot adds, thinking of his own children and how often they rely on technology for entertainment.

"I just got a call from the one-three." Cragen speaks loudly as he appears from his office doorway. "A couple of beat-cops found a girl lying in an alleyway just outside Queens. Raped, strangulation marks, and the same star-shaped cut... EMS is taking her to Mercy General now."

"She's alive?" Olivia asks in a sort of horror.

"Barely."

As detectives Benson and Stabler hurry out of the squad room, Captain Cragen turns toward the remaining detectives in the room. "Run the MO through CODIS – we have a serial killer on our hands."

* * *

It has taken three girls, two dead and one close to it, for them to realize they're dealing with a serial killer. It drives her mad that this is the way the world works, that their system is a slow one and there isn't a damn thing they can do about it.

Knowing what she does, Alex can't shake her own guilt. She wonders if what she did had been the right thing, or the selfish thing. She ultimately decides it had been a selfish move. Fifteen years ago, she had been too scared, too embarrassed, to go to the police. And now she deals with the aftermath of her own rapist.

Her head is held high despite her growing anxiety as she makes her way to ADA Novak's office. Her history with the woman leaves this to be a poor choice, but she believes it is her only one. She prepares her thoughts as if she were striving for a solid argument, but quickly stops herself. She's only here to talk.

The shades are drawn and no one responds to Alex's knocking, which she finds odd. She is always able to find Casey. Out of curiosity, she opens the door to find the room is dimly lit and that she is the only living thing there. She slips inside, shutting the door behind her after deciding to wait.

Alex eyes her colleague's personal items strewn about her office. A few framed photographs of her softball team and various awards she's received over the years – nothing too personal. It's always been a rare thing for Casey to get too personal.

Her fingertips trace the dusty law books on the shelve, admiring the effort her friend has put into decorating. The surface of one book suddenly becomes smooth and she doubles back. It's a small cluster of photos lying on a slanted book, and she is able to put names to all of the faces in them. In one, a group of college kids pose together with wide, drunken grins. She smiles to herself when she spots twenty-two year old Casey and her own twenty-five year old self hanging on to each other for what she can only assume is balance.

While those days had their own issues, she finds them to be the good days in comparison. There was good peppered in the bad. Things used to be okay. And she isn't so far gone that she can't say she doesn't miss that.


	11. Dirt I

Okay you demanding A/C shippers, here starts the scenes where they finally interact again. Don't get too excited, it's not a pleasant interaction. Part two to this chapter might be though. If you know what I mean. As for more college-y A/C moments, well, that time has already gone by in this fic. This isn't a college-y story. If you recognize the lines, it's because they were taken from Ghost, which is the time this chapter takes place. Review it or don't, but at least enjoy it!

**Disclaimer**: Again, if it's recognized, it's probably not mine.

* * *

October, 2005:

The force of the blow knocked Alexandra Cabot back a few steps, where Agent Hammond caught her before she fell into a floor lamp. Never had the former ADA been decked so damn hard, and by a girl no less. She had to admit, her successor had a hell of a swing.

The agents stood between the two women as what happened registered in their minds. Casey shook her hand around as if she could shake the pain off, and Alex touched her own lips to find she was bleeding. Neither Hammond nor Philips thought SVU's current prosecutor to be a real threat, but still, they stood in a close proximity just in case she felt the need to express herself once more.

It was quiet and the agents wondered if a silly cat fight would ensue. Hammond mulled over how entertaining it could be, until he got a look at Cabot's busted lip. Nope, that would not be a fair fight at all.

"I could arrest you for assaulting a federal witness right now, Ms. Novak." Hammond finally spoke up. It was an empty threat, and she knew it.

"So do it. Then you'll see what I can do." Casey's threats, as she had just proven, weren't nearly as empty.

"Alright children," Philips broke in. "While watching two women fight is always a favorite past time of mine, I need for everyone to get along. We have work to do. Ms. Novak, do you think you can refrain from throwing any more punches?"

Casey, feeling undeniably foolish, could only respond by seating herself behind her desk.

"Good. Now we're going to take Ms. Cabot over here to get some ice. Call us when your detectives arrive."

Once the trio had left, Casey propped her elbows on her desk and hid her face in her hands. She was absolutely embarrassed that she had lost her temper. But she was undoubtedly angry with Alex Cabot. For two years she had believed the woman to be dead. For two years, Alex had left Casey with the remnants of their strayed friendship, a series of should have's and would have's, and a mess of emotions.

The redhead didn't know whether to be angry or sad over her friend's death, nor did she know how to get over it. She felt utterly ridiculous over how much she had cried over Alex. After law school, the pair had drifted so far a part, but Casey knew they were still friends. She had always felt at least that much.

Still, she couldn't shake the jealousy she felt. Alex had come out of the woodwork like nothing happened, and she would end the case as a hero. Casey would sit idly by as someone else did her job, and did it better. And she'd wonder why Alex had never come out of hiding to say goodbye to her, like she had done for the detectives.

* * *

Benson and Stabler sat still in their seats like a couple of school children about to be scolded. Novak stood across from them, still behind the confines of her shined desk when she finally spoke. "We work together. You should've trusted me."

"We made a promise-" Olivia tried to defend, but was quickly cut off.

"You hung me out to dry in court." Casey corrected.

Elliot took a deep sigh. He wanted to comment on the situation, but found it best to leave it be. He was, however, still concerned. "Are we gonna need lawyers?"

"I hope not." Casey said as she motioned toward the door. The detectives turned in their seats and immediately stood when they realized who it was that had just come in.

"You didn't have to come back." Elliot stated with a grin.

"I know." Alex smirked. "But who else is gonna get you out of trouble?" She missed the playful banter and closeness of working with the detectives, but she could see Casey wasn't nearly as pleased in that moment as the rest of them were.

"Before everyone gets reacquainted, they're waiting for us in court." Definitely not pleased.

* * *

Olivia sat one cushion away from Alex as they absentmindedly watched infomercials. The brunette had been watching as her friend barely blinked. And then as she spoke, her voice cracked. "Why do you think Casey is so upset?"

Her question had certainly caught Olivia off guard. Why did she care? "I would assume it's because you're here to steal her glory."

"No. She's in this for the right reasons. Glory isn't a priority."

Olivia turned to Alex with a questioning look.

"We were really good friends back in law school." Alex answered. "When I graduated, I moved back to New York and we didn't see each other anymore."

Olivia chuckled at the thought of the young, naïve ADAs in college. "Does this mean you have embarrassing stories to tell? Was she always a fireball?"

Alex laughed, silently thanking the detective for choosing a light-hearted subject. "She was always a fireball." She nodded. "But I'm afraid I can't disclose the events that occurred back then, as they involve me. Besides, our party days were mostly gone by the time we hit Harvard."

"Oh come on, you don't have any dirt on her?"

Alex shrugged. "She was a dork, but she was cute. I liked her. You would too if you gave her a chance, Liv."

"She's kind of a bitch." Olivia stated.

"Who do you think taught her?" Alex smiled coyly. "In all seriousness, I'm glad she's who replaced me. She knows what she's doing. And if she doesn't, she always figures it out."

* * *

"Ms. Cabot, do you have any idea who shot you?"

"Oh I have an idea. It's the kind of man who rapes a woman to make her talk."

"Let me rephrase the question: Did you see Liam Connors shoot you?" The defense attorney had become agitated with Alex. She was merely a witness, but she was trying to play prosecutor. And that was frustrating.

"No. But I know it was him."

"Your Honor-" He tried to complain but was quickly cut off by Alex once more.

"It takes a lot of balls to shoot an unarmed woman and a sleeping child." Alex was firm and passionate, ignoring the banging of the Judge's gavel. "Too bad your aim wasn't a little better." She shouted over the gavel. And she got it, the reaction she was looking for.

"You think you're safe? They know where you are! You should've stayed dead!" Liam shouted as he tried to lunge over the desk.

Judge Pretrovsky ordered a recess and dismissed Alex, and Casey sat in awe with a smirk playing on her lips. It was perfect the way the blonde had pushed the defendant's buttons. It was perfect.


End file.
